A Dark Spring Green
by little dark starling
Summary: "Jeez, Jane! Haven't we already talked about you knocking first?" Jane walks in on Lisbon in a...somewhat awkward...situation. Originally a one-shot, now a triple feature, complete with happy ending. Takes place between episodes 6.16 Violets and 6.17 Silver Wings of Time. Still just a bit of fun.
1. A dark spring green

**AN: A little OOC, perhaps (okay a lot), but sometimes that's what's needed.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist.**

* * *

Patrick Jane walked up the front path to Lisbon's new house, casually swinging a small grocery bag in one hand and whistling softly. He noted with satisfaction just the one car in the short driveway - _so things with that Pike character aren't that serious yet, good - _and the minimal glow of light through the curtains, telling him that she only had the one small table-lamp on in the living room. Yes, just as he had thought: he would find her curled up fast asleep on the couch, a stack of unnecessary paperwork in her lap. He smiled to himself at the anticipated pleasure of waking her up to present her with the tub of her favorite double-espresso chocolate ice-cream.

He reached into the pocket of his trousers, drawing forth the spare key presented to him upon her purchase of the quaint, two-storey house. Yes, this certainly qualified as an emergency. He couldn't have his Lisbon waking up grumpy in the morning because she hadn't been able to stay awake long enough to dot all those crucial i's, cross every critical t, and arrange her files in those neat, alphabetical piles she seemed to love so much, let alone have her cranky because of that crick in her neck she always developed when she slept all night on the couch. Wielding the entrusted key with confidence, he thrust it into the lock, gave it a turn, and let himself into the cool, quiet hall.

But hold on a minute. It wasn't actually all that quiet after all. What was that odd noise coming from the Lisbon's lounge? A sort of low moan, and… was that a _growl_ he'd just heard? Glancing around for a suitable weapon, he plucked an umbrella from the hook by the door and proceeded to tread softly down the hall. A louder moan reached his ears, surely indicative of someone in great pain or distress. He steeled himself against the wall, gripped the umbrella tightly in both hands, and leapt around the corner, hitting the light switch with what he hoped was a startling cry.

And startling it was, indeed. The two occupants of the couch both rocketed into the air. One flew right off the couch to land on the floor in an ungainly heap, while the second reached down in one smooth motion and presently had a gun pointed in Jane's face.

Blink. Teresa Lisbon, clad only in faded jeans and a green bra, lying on her couch, pointing a gun at him. Swallow.

"Jeez, Jane! Haven't we already talked about you knocking? Or better yet, have you thought about using the doorbell? How the hell did you get in here, anyway, and just what are you doing with my umbrella?"

He lowered his weapon. This was no merely angry little princess, whose tiara had been stolen. This was a downright furious little princess, whose tiara had not only been taken and crushed into a thousand tiny pieces, but whose pony had been given a vicious kick to the leg.

_But what kind of green would you call that lace? Forest? Emerald? Shamrock? Wait, dark spring? Whatever it was, it offset the pale smoothness of her skin perfectly. And were those freckles?_

A loud clicking noise attempted to break through his very pleasant thoughts.

"Jane! Eyes up here please."

_Whatever it is, it brings__ out the color of her eyes perfectly, too. Was that deliberate on her part, I wonder, or just lucky chance?_

"Jane! Quit the goldfish act. I said, what the hell?"

"Ah, yes, Lisbon. Right, well."

_Usually I'm quite good at giving explanations, aren't I? Oh help, she's standing up from the sofa. At least the gun's gone. But that green-embossed vision is now coming this way. What's that she bending down to pick up now..?_

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"

_Who knew a rolled-up magazine to the chest could hurt so much?_

"What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Each word was punctuated by a sharp whack to his upper body.

"Um, Teresa, perhaps you might like to…"

"Marcus, hush, this doesn't concern you!"

"Okay, right, I just thought you might like to…"

_Lisbon really does have a marvellous glare. I've never fully appreciated it leveled at someone else before, only at me…yes, there it is again. I'm going to call that color lace a dark spring green. _

"Jane? I'm waiting…"

Jane made a valiant attempt to recover his composure. "Well, you see, Lisbon, I thought you might like some ice-cream," he began.

"Ice-cream? Okaay. And what made you think you could just waltz on in here and… How did you get in here anyway? Did you pick my lock again?"

"No!" An injured air. "Definitely not. Not after what happened the last time." _Keep your eyes on her face, that's it_.

"Last time?"

"Marcus, I told you to hush."

"I used the key you gave me." Confident smile, a little proud at having the right answer.

"The key I gave you for emergencies?"

"Ye-es." A little less confident now, perhaps.

"And just what is it about this scenario," she gestured at herself, him, Marcus, the room in general, "that constitutes an emergency, Jane?"

It really was remarkable how calm she was being. _Is that a tick she's developing in her left eyebrow? I've never seen it quite so pronounced before?_

"Well, I only saw _your_ car in the driveway…"

"Marcus rode his bike over. He parked it down the side, where it's more secure."

So Marcus Pike rode a bike. A smirk crossed Jane's face at the thought of the agent on a pushbike. Then it was gone. _Marcus, in leather, on a big, black motorcycle. Lisbon, no, wait, Teresa, also in leather, perched snugly behind him, slender arms wrapped around his waist. Uh oh._ _I didn't see this one coming. And Lisbon does have that thing for bad boys…_

_Never mind, brush it off, soldier on_.

"What were you smiling at?"

"What? Oh, nothing." _Eyes on the face. It's such a nice face, it shouldn't be this difficult, but.._. "Anyway, I saw the size of that stack of files you took home with you. I just thought you might appreciate some help." He held up the ice-cream, eyes beseeching.

"And the umbrella?"

"Well, I thought I heard an odd noise in here…"

"You know what, don't worry about it." Lisbon took the ice-cream from him and put it down on the table beside her. "Thanks. But next time, maybe send a text first. And try using that doorbell."

All of a sudden, an odd expression crossed her face.

_Aha! She's just remembered that she's not wearing a top. She's just been carrying on a conversation with me in her bra. Now what color had I decided to call that again…?_

"Dammit, Jane!" Lisbon snatched up her discarded shirt from where it lay draped across the back of the couch. "Marcus, you could have said something instead of just standing there like an idiot!"

"Well, I did tr.."

"Never mind! Just… never mind." She took a loud breath in, fingers working all the while to secure her shirt buttons. "This just did not happen. It's as simple as that."

Now fully clothed, she took the umbrella from Jane's fingers ,and, with a guiding hand under his elbow, propelled him swiftly from the room and down the passage to the front door.

"I also want that key back."

His lower lip jutted out, but he nobly pulled the key from his pocket and obediently put it in her outstretched hand.

"I'm giving it to Cho. You, Jane, are on probation. You can have it back when I deem your behaviour appropriate."

_I'll give you behavior that's appropriate. Wait. Hang on a minute, now what did I mean by that?_

Finding himself now alone on the doorstep, the front door firmly closed in his face, Jane turned to head back to his car. Losing the key had been a bit of a sore loss, but perhaps it had all been worth it. He grinned. Plus, he could still pick a lock if there happened to be a _real_ emergency.

He pulled away from the kerb and began to drive off down the street, before thinking better of it and turning the car around to park on the far side of the road, a little down from Lisbon's house and where he hoped he'd be out of the street lamp's glare. He waited. _One, two, three…_ Sure enough, her front door opened again and Marcus Pike appeared on the stoop, Lisbon beside him. He leant in for a kiss and Jane held his breath. _One, two..._ Their heads parted. Yes, this evening had definitely been worth it. He waited until Pike's motorbike had roared away down the street.

_It's not really that impressive a bike at all. I wouldn't call it big, not when it comes right down to it_.

As Lisbon turned to re-enter her house, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. Looking right at Jane, her eyes narrowed dangerously. He sank down a little in his seat.

_Wait, was that a wink?_

The door closed behind her, and Jane was left sitting alone in the dark.

Yes, that had definitely been worth it.


	2. A cobalt blue

**AN: This update is for MentalistLover13 and STJ, who asked so nicely for more. Thanks also to the other reviewers, favs, and followers who enjoyed the original story. I hope you like this next instalment!**

* * *

Jane lay back on his comfortable brown leather couch under the windows of the FBI bullpen, and thought over the events of the night before. He just could not get the image of his partner and best friend, as he had seen her last night, out of his mind. What was wrong with him? He wasn't supposed to be thinking of Lisbon like this. She was… Lisbon.

Of course she was beautiful. Anyone would have to admit that. And sexy. And utterly captivating. The way she had trained that gun on him with such a fierce glare… His heart almost stopped beating again with the mere memory of it.

_Stop it! She's Lisbon for goodness' sake. She's off limits. She always has been._

The seemingly immoveable preoccupation was starting to affect his performance at work so far today, too, and people were noticing. Abbott had already had to repeat himself during the earlier case briefing because Jane hadn't been paying attention, and Wylie and Fischer had both asked him at least once if everything was okay. Their concerned looks and the way Fischer kept touching his shoulder were really getting irritating. Plus, it was embarrassing; he should be able to exhibit more control over himself than he was clearly managing to do at the present time.

He snuggled down a little bit deeper into the softness of the couch, folding his arms more tightly across his chest and determining to ban the troublesome image from his conscience once and for all.

_One thing to be grateful for, she's not mad at me. At least, I think that's what I'm to take from that wink. But then again, maybe it wasn't a wink. Maybe it was that angry tick she sometimes gets, but somehow taken to ginormous proportions. Maybe…_

_Stop it!_

He turned his mind instead to wondering where the woman in question was. Lisbon was never late, never. You could set your watch by her punctuality. But it was now almost lunchtime and no one had said a word about her absence. Unless it had been mentioned at one of those times when he hadn't been paying attention…

He turned onto his side, eyes still tightly shut.

_Think about the case. Think about the case. Think about the case._

The faint scent of vanilla followed by a sharp kick to the couch and just below his head brought him back to his senses. He knew that smell. And that kick. He smiled.

"Lisbon," he murmured, yawning and stretching his arms luxuriously above his head. "Where have you been?"

He opened his eyes. There she was, just the same as ever: lovely green eyes; light smattering of freckles across a dainty nose; dark glossy hair, loose and flowing on her shoulders, the way he liked it best. Except, wait…there was something different about her. He just couldn't quite seem to put his finger on what that was.

She was leaning down to him, proffering a cup of tea, and as his eyes strayed from her face down to the white china vessel, with its curls of inviting steam wafting over the delicate lip, he caught a glimpse of something blue and lacy through the vapor, peeping out from where her cream-colored, demure-as-always blouse fell open slightly.

Giving a strangled yelp, Jane sat up suddenly, swinging his whole body round with a violent action. One errant elbow knocked Lisbon's arm, sending the cup and saucer in her hand flying through the air, to shatter with an ear-splitting crash on the tiled floor by Cho's feet. The agent, along with several others who were seated nearby, leapt to his feet and turned to stare.

"Jane! What the hell?" Lisbon was still standing before him, but her entire front was now drenched in a spreading tea-colored stain. The outline of blue lace was beginning to make itself increasingly visible through the now almost sheer fabric.

Jane stared.

Lisbon put her hands on her hips and glared at him, the move pulling tight the wet material covering her chest.

Jane swallowed audibly.

"Lapis lazuli," he managed to articulate. "Or is it cerulean?"

"What?" Lisbon asked, seemingly confused now as well as angry. But there was also a hint of something else in her appraisal of him. Amusement? Was she enjoying this? "Jane, are you feeling alright?"

"He's been weird all morning," Cho pitched in. _Traitor_. "Think he's finally gone off the deep end?"

Every agent in the bullpen was still staring at them, some stifling giggles behind raised hands, others openly sniggering.

"Hush, Cho. That's not helpful," Lisbon remonstrated, turning her attention now to her soaked front, pulling the soggy fabric away from her body, and giving herself a little shake, _almost a shimmy_, as she peered down inside. "Well, this is ruined."

Jane got to his feet in a hurry, almost slipping in the puddle of spilt tea as he did so.

"Ah, well, I'm terribly sorry, Lisbon. Such a ceru- I mean, shame, about your shirt. You look so lovely in blue, too."

"Her top's not blue. It's cream-colored," Cho pointed out helpfully.

"Ahh, yes," Jane couldn't help stammering a little. "Thank you, Cho. That's what I meant. Anyway, we should both get cleaned up. I have tea on my trousers."

And with that abrupt statement he hurriedly left the bullpen, heading for the men's restroom down the hall, and working hard to avoid the curious and amused glances of the masses as they watched him go.

_Can this day get any worse?_

* * *

Jane had just finished dabbing at the tea stains on his trouser leg when he heard the door of the restroom open. He glanced in the mirror and what he saw in the reflection made him stand up and stare.

Approaching him from the doorway was Lisbon, and once again she was clad only in her work jeans and a lacy bra. Blue lace. Set against the paleness of her skin and with no other garment, wet or otherwise, impeding his view, he decided on cobalt blue rather than cerulean.

_I'm dreaming. I've fallen asleep on my couch and this is a dream. No way Teresa Lisbon wanders around the corridors of the FBI in just her lingerie._

_New lingerie, too. New cobalt blue. New blue._

_Or Cho's right and I have finally gone crazy. This is a hallucination. I'll blink and she'll disappear._

_I don't want her to disappear. Whatever you do, Patrick Jane, don't blink._

"Sorry, Jane. Just looking to see if there're any paper towels in here. The ladies' are out." She held up a dark garment in one hand and waved it carelessly. "Lucky I always keep a spare change of clothes at work, huh? Never can tell when someone's going to try and drown you in tea."

She came up beside him and reached across his chest to the wall dispenser. As he inhaled that warm vanilla scent, now tempered with hints of earl grey, he thought vaguely that he could be in danger of losing consciousness if he didn't figure out how the whole act of breathing worked again, and soon.

She was dabbing at herself now, delicately pressing the wadded up towel against her skin.

He must have made some small sound, because she met his gaze in the mirror, widening her eyes innocently: "What was that, Jane?"

_Too innocently_.

He narrowed his own eyes back at her in the mirror.

_What are you up to?_

But she was finished. Tossing the napkin into the wastepaper receptacle, she shrugged on her new blouse, cobalt blue disappearing behind midnight as the buttons were slowly but surely fastened, one by one, starting with the bottom one.

"You know, you might want to think about paying a visit to the bureau physician, Jane. You look a little peaked, might be coming down with something."

_Down with something?_

With the last button sitting snug in its buttonhole, she turned away from the mirror and sauntered back over to the door. Opening it, she glanced back at him, sweeping her hair over her shoulder as she did so. The corner of her mouth curved up in a suggestive smile as she fingered the dark collar of her shirt.

"But if you're feeling up to it, maybe we could do lunch?"

And with that she was gone, leaving in her wake a still slightly stunned Jane, who remained staring into the mirror at the reflection of the door long after it had swung closed behind her.

_What the hell was that?_

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**AN: Hope you liked it :)**


	3. A fuchsia blush

**AN: I think I may have reached new heights of ridiculousness in this chapter, but I blame y'all for reading and encouraging me! Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter, especially the guests, to whom I couldn't send a PM. I hope you all enjoy this last installment: it includes a shift to Lisbon's perspective, for a bit of a change, as well as a bit of a sappy happy ending (because I just couldn't help it) :)**

* * *

Patrick Jane was once again feeling confident and sure of himself. He'd nearly lost it there for a moment, but now that he'd managed to clear his head, with the help of a few whiskeys, he had at last figured out Lisbon's plan. Or so he thought. She was trying to punish him for the other night by distracting him with peeps at her lingerie, and thus force him to embarrass himself in front of their colleagues.

Well, if she wanted to play at games of seduction, then he was going to show her who was the master player around here. He would make her sorry she'd ever tried to get one over on him. It was time to even the score.

Somewhere deep within his brain, a tiny voice piped up and asked him why it was her feints had worked so well, why he'd been so strangely susceptible to what was essentially just pieces of colored lace; the voice spoke perhaps of something that might be termed love, but Jane's conscious self squashed it back down forcefully. That was her plan, to get him all confused and thrown off-balance, and he wasn't going to let that happen. He took another swig of whiskey to fortify his resolutions, and picked up his phone.

_Operation Lisbon-Gets-Her-Comeuppance is a go_.

* * *

Teresa Lisbon was in the middle of a frustrating conversation when her phone rang.

"No, Marcus, as I told you the other night, it's over."

"But–"

"No buts. It wasn't working between us, you know what I mean."

"I could–"

"No, you couldn't."

"But–"

"Hush a moment, I have to answer this. Lisbon. … Jane? I– …_What?_ … Okay, I'll be right there. Just stay down."

She ended the call and turned back to the man sitting morosely across the table from her.

"Marcus, I'm sorry, I've got to go. Jane's in trouble."

"Can I–"

"No. Goodbye, Marcus."

* * *

Speeding into the deserted FBI car-park and bringing her vehicle to a screeching halt beside Jane's Airstream, Lisbon took a moment to survey the scene. All was quiet and dark. There were no signs of life at all from the solitary trailer, or elsewhere in the isolated lot, and Lisbon quickly swallowed down the nervous tension rising within her. She picked up her phone.

"Cho? It's Lisbon. Look, I'm at Jane's and something's wrong. I might need back-up. … Great, thanks."

She hung up and drew her weapon before exiting the vehicle. Walking carefully to minimize any noise caused by her heeled boots, she approached the trailer steps, looking about her warily for any signs of movement. Seeing none, she tried the door. It was unlocked and she gently eased it open, holding her breath a little as thoughts of what she might find within teemed through her worried brain.

It was pitch dark inside.

From previous visits, she knew just where the light switch was, to the left of the door, so, putting her hand over it, she primed her weapon and flicked the switch.

And gasped.

All of a sudden, events seemed to happen in slow motion.

There, in the doorway to the Airstream's tiny bathroom, less than ten feet away from her, stood Jane. And he was far from being injured, or dead, as she had feared. No, he was leaning casually against the doorframe, blinking a little in the sudden light, but with a smirk on his handsome face and his bare arms folded across his chest.

Which was also bare.

And surprisingly well toned.

And dripping with beads of moisture.

_Good God. Patrick Jane is standing in front of me, wearing only a towel. Dripping wet and wearing only a towel. That's practically naked. Patrick Jane is practically naked and standing right in front of me. Right now, there is only a towel between me and a naked Jane._

_Jane. Naked._

Lisbon went to take a step forward, a shocked expression still on her face and not yet able to utter a word, but as she did so she tripped on the top step and stumbled forward. Her elbow hit the back of the seat beside her, and as her finger knocked the trigger of her gun, it went off with a loud bang. The alarming sound echoed even more alarmingly in the tight confines of the trailer, and from her ungainly position on the floor, Lisbon heard an anguished shout.

Once again on her feet, she was greeted by the sight of Jane clutching a hand to his shoulder, from which red blood could be seen welling up between his white fingers, while at the same time he tried to keep the towel around his waist from falling down. His face was a grimace of pain and panic, and the effect of the whole picture was so ridiculous that in the shock of the moment Lisbon let out a horrified laugh.

Jane looked at her, an expression of incredulousness replacing the previous agony.

"Good God, woman. You've just shot me in the arm, and all you can do is stand there and laugh. Ouch, Lisbon, it really hurts."

This last came out in a sulky whine, and Lisbon couldn't help but keep the smile on her face as she hurriedly crossed the small space to examine the wound.

Pulling his fingers away from his shoulder, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's just a flesh wound, Jane. You're going to be fine." She couldn't help but be aware of the incredible smoothness of his bare damp skin beneath her fingers, and her breathing gave a hitch. "But there's still a lot of blood, so we're going to have to bind it with something. Give me that towel."

She put a hand on his hip and made to remove the fabric from around his waist. He gave a yelp and slapped her hand away.

"No! You can't have my towel, Lisbon. I've been shot, for goodness' sake. You have to let me keep this last vestige of my dignity."

"Dignity?" she smirked, but relinquished her hold on his precious drapery and started looking around for something else to stem the flow of blood.

"Take off your shirt," Jane reclaimed her attention by demanding. "It's an emergency, Lisbon. I could be bleeding to death here."

At her open-mouthed gape, he continued, a look of glee taking up delighted residence on his features, helped along perhaps by his earlier bouts of alcohol consumption. "I've been seeing so much of your lingerie lately, Lisbon, what's one more peek? What color is it today? Deep crimson? Buttercup yellow? No, wait, let me guess: a vivid violet?"

She glared at him, and then, seeing the blood still flowing steadily from his arm and beginning to drip on the floor, sighed and started to unbutton her blouse.

"Fine."

The last fastening let loose from its mooring, she wriggled her arms out of the piece of clothing and began to bind the material around his upper arm. Securing it firmly, she looked up and rolled her eyes at his slack-jawed expression. "Come on, Jane. As you just said, you've seen it all before."

"Pink."

"Yes, Jane, pink. Very good. Now, come on and snap out of it, we need to get you to the hospital. You're going to need stitches in that arm."

Just then they heard a sound from the open doorway. Spinning around swiftly, and preparing to shoot again if necessary, Lisbon was relieved to find Cho and Fischer standing there. Cho was looking at them with his usual blank expression, a slightly higher pitch to his eyebrows the only visible sign that he was surprised by what he saw before him. Fischer, on the other hand, was standing as if struck, with her mouth open wide and her eyes out on stalks.

When a long while had gone by without anyone saying anything, Lisbon took a sudden look at herself and Jane, and immediately blushed.

"Crap."

Jane's towel had slipped and was barely doing its declared job of maintaining any dignity whatsoever. Jane himself was still staring at her own hardly modest chest area, his eyes a little glazed, and an altogether vacant expression on his face.

"Jane!"

She was tempted to slap his face, but restrained herself on the premise that he could be in real shock from the bullet wound, and that it might result in the loss of the towel altogether.

"Ah, guys, perhaps you could give us a ride to the hospital?" She tried surreptitiously to reach behind her and adjust his covering.

It didn't work. She felt warm skin and whipped her hand back.

"Yeah, sure. What happened here?" Cho spoke at last; his eyebrows were once again back at their usual position.

"Just a bit of…an accident," Lisbon replied, avoiding eye contact. "Sorry for getting you both out here unnecessarily. Wait a minute. What are you doing together? Were you two on a _date_?"

Fischer's mouth at last slapped shut, and she looked furtively at Cho, as if unsure how to respond. He shrugged.

"Yeah. No worries."

Lisbon stared at them both for a moment, and then shook herself and started looking around her for Jane's trousers. Spotting them at last on the bed, she snatched them up along with his shirt and thrust them into the man's arms.

"Jane, put these on. Can you do it on your own?"

"Magnolia," said Jane, taking the clothes distractedly and backing slowly into the bathroom, eyes never straying from her lace-covered breasts. Lisbon made a hasty grab for the towel as it finally slipped from his hips. Pushing it and him into the other room, she shut the door with a bang.

"No, wait, fuchsia," came his muffled voice through the door.

"What's he saying?" Cho asked.

"Nothing," Lisbon muttered hastily. "He's in a lot of pain."

The three of them stood there in the Airstream, waiting. Lisbon shuffled her feet.

At last, the bathroom door opened again and Jane re-emerged, somewhat disheveled in his wrinkled clothes, but nevertheless fully covered. Lisbon sighed in relief, reached for his unwounded arm and started to pull him towards the door.

"Right, let's go."

"Ah, Teresa…" Fischer started to say something, and then stopped.

"Yes?"

"Do you think… maybe… you should put a shirt on, too, before we go?"

Lisbon felt herself blush bright red again.

"Crap. Yes. Thanks, Kim."

She let go of Jane and wrenched open a cupboard door. There, hanging neatly in an ordered row, were several of Jane's shirts. She grabbed one and hastily put it on, then led the now much less distracted man after the others and out to Cho's car, wishing with all her heart that this night would soon be over.

_Cripes, I am never going to live this down._

* * *

A couple of hours later, she was leading Jane back up the Airstream steps. He was still somewhat groggy from painkillers, so she allowed him the hand on her hip to keep his balance. It wouldn't do to have him falling down the steps and doing himself another injury, after all.

Once they were inside with the door closed securely behind them, Jane immediately crossed to the bed and lay down on it, curling his body up into the fetal position and closing his eyes.

Lisbon got to work cleaning the blood from the floor.

"Lisbon?" she soon heard, uttered plaintively from across the small space.

"Yeah, Jane?"

"C'mere?"

She sat down beside him, and he took her hand between his slightly clammy fingers.

"You know, I think I like the fuchsia best."

She smiled and couldn't help teasing him. "Really, Jane? I would have thought the green was more your style."

He stared at her without blinking.

"The dark spring green does bring out the color of your eyes, 's true," he eventually said, "but I still prefer the fuchsia. I've always thought you'd look partic'ly beautiful in such a deep shade of pink."

For some unaccountable reason, Lisbon felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Things seemed to have become serious all of a sudden.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course I do." He reached up with one finger and tapped her on the cheek. "Beau-ti-ful."

She smiled and bent down to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Jane."

"Lisbon?" he asked again, before she could get up and return to cleaning the floor.

"Yeah, Jane?"

"D'ya think I could see more than just your lingerie?"

"_What?_" She scooted backwards off the bed so fast that she almost lost her balance and fell over for the second time that night.

Jane sat up quickly, too, his eyes wide with drugged panic.

"I think that came out wrong."

"I should bloody well hope so."

"What I mean is," he rubbed a hand over his face and attempted to look tragic, "being shot tonight has given me a new perspective on life, and on recent events."

Lisbon rolled her eyes at his melodrama, but let him continue on with his speech without interruption.

"Lingerie's all well and good, very good, of course, especially when it's yours, but I've realized that… Well, and that's the point, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten me, Jane. What's the point?"

"Well, that the lingerie is _yours_, Lisbon. That it's _your_ lingerie that…Well, I mean… I wouldn't be acting this way about anyone else's now, would I?"

"I hope not," Lisbon replied quietly, coming back to sit beside him on the bed.

"So, it has come to my attention that it's _you_," he reached for her hand again, "who is meant for _me_. Whatever you might happen to be wearing. Or not."

"That is, quite possibly, very sweet, Jane." She squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

"So can we make a change, Lisbon? Can I be yours? Or you mine? Can we be each other's from now on, do you think?"

"Yes, I think we can, Jane," she smiled and kissed him again, this time on the lips. "At any rate, something has to change. I can't afford to ruin any more of my blouses."

* * *

**AN: That's all, folks! Hope you liked it :)**


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